Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Rodion
Son of a bitch.
Well, if it isn’t the Kopolov family, here en force, ready to greet me and my little queen.
They could’ve warned a guy. And why do they all look so pissed?
Ember’s grip on my hand tightens as we step off the elevator. The tension in the air is suffocating.
“I didn’t expect such a welcome party,” I say smoothly, aware of Ember’s nervous breathing and shaking beside me.
I know the sight before her is probably terrifying—Rafail, his dark, assessing eyes narrowed on the two of us, his lips curled in a not-quite-there smile.
Semyon, his gaze cold and calculating behind thin glasses, as aloof and threatening as always.
My cousin Matvei, large and looming with his weapon drawn, beside them.
All are dressed in business casual as if they’re ready to step out to grab dinner with consultants.
“Put it away, Matvei,” I say in a low voice. “Jesus.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he slips the gun in a holster, but his stance doesn’t change.
“So this is the girl you brought,” Rafail says.
Well, thanks for the warm family greeting.
“This is Ember. And yes, she’s with me. Why the welcome party?”
We step off the elevator. Jesus, I hope no one heard her moans in the elevator shaft.
Rafail’s tone is icy. “You sure this is a good idea, Rodion?”
My fingers tighten on Ember’s hand, my voice as sharp as a razor. “Excuse me?”
“This is the one you asked me to expedite home.”
Rage threads through my limbs as I shake my head. I don’t appreciate the note of derision or how he’s talking about Ember like she’s fucking cargo. “Obviously, yes. Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? Where are the girls?”
Rafail jerks his head to the corner of the room. “Kitchen. Before you see them, we have to have a little talk. What the hell are you two playing with, Rodion?”
I haven’t heard this tone of voice since I was a fucking child.
“What are you talking about?”
Oh, shit.
Maybe they found my social media account. If they found my account, I’m fucking screwed. But then… why are they looking at Ember as if she’s the enemy?
Rafail shifts, tucking his hands in his pockets, but it doesn’t make him look more casual, just more calculating. He and Semyon share a knowing look.
What the fuck?
“I didn’t know you allowed her to post videos online about us,” Rafail says.
What?
“What are you talking about?”
Semyon pulls out a tablet and taps a few buttons. Are they really going to give her shit about having a book account about mafia men? Those are fiction. They should know—
Oh no.
I stare at the video, cold awareness curling in my gut.
Jesus.
“When did you take that video, Ember?” I ask, my grip on her tightening. I’m careful not to hurt her, even though I want to shake her.
It’s her on the plane, holding a book up. On our plane.
“Where was I?”
It’s a viral post, with thousands of messages and millions of views coming in as we speak. Damning. Incriminating.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says, shaking her head. Even though her eyes are wide with fear, her voice is tinged with the ferocity I love about her.
Get it, girl.
“Yes, I have an account, but it has nothing to do with you. It’s about romance books. I post about fiction, not you guys. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Look at this,” Rafail says, obviously seething as he points to a corner of the screen.
Ember’s hand covers her mouth. I don’t say anything at first, as I’m trying to stay calm.
“I asked you a question, Ember. When?”
“On the plane, you got up to talk to the flight crew, and I took the opportunity to post a quick video.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t post quick videos,” Rafail snaps. I hate the way he chides her as if it’s his fucking place. My hands ball at my sides. “Maybe you should take the time to edit them before you fucking post.”
I take a step toward him. How fucking dare he. “Maybe you should shut the—” I clamp my mouth shut at the searing glare he sends me, just as Semyon snaps, “Rodion.”
I can’t lose my shit, not here, not now, not with my brother the pakhan.
Ember’s eyes flash at my brothers, and her nostrils flare.
“I didn’t even know the Bratva was fucking real until like two weeks ago, so excuse me for not knowing I couldn’t take a video on a plane I was invited on.
” She turns to me, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“You know me. You know I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you or your family.”
Rafail jabs a finger at the video.
Right in the corner of the screen are all the details—a crest in the background with our family name. The caption suggests Bratva themes, and the whole thing maybe could’ve been shrugged off as fictional, if not for the comment section.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head. No.
Someone looked it all up and posted all our information for the whole damn world to see. It’s the top comment.
“Delete it,” I snap, but she’s already on it, her hands shaking as she unlocks her phone and pulls it up.
“It’s gone,” she whispers, not voicing what all of us are thinking: deleting the post doesn’t remove the screenshots or views. The leak is out there, and there’s no taking it back.
“I didn’t know. I had no idea. I thought I was just taking a video for my account. It’s part of my income, you know? I need to keep posting, and I haven’t posted in days. I had no idea you guys would have information on the plane that would identify you. I didn’t mean—”
“To mock our family?” Rafail snaps. “To make us the laughing stock of—”
“Rafail.”
I step between Ember and him. I never wanted to have to choose between my family and Ember, and I don’t want to have to now.
“Stop. She didn’t mean it. It was a harmless accident. This is what she does, and she didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s not harmless.” His nostrils flare. “This has gone wider than you know. We have to talk to you alone, Rodion.” His voice sets my nerves on edge.
What the hell happened?
“Fine, but no one touches her,” I warn, steel in my voice. “If one fucking hair on her head is harmed, you’ll answer to me.”
Rafail’s brows rise. Semyon whistles under his breath, and Matvei silently makes the sign of the cross.
Rafail narrows his eyes on me. “Your sisters are in the kitchen. Bring Ember there while we talk.”
I definitely have no choice, but she won’t like being separated. Hell, I think it’s bullshit myself, but I know better than to push back now.
So I take her by the hand and lead her to the kitchen. I’m still shaking. Still waiting for the fallout from overstepping my place with Rafail. He’ll fucking kill me for that.
“I’m sorry,” Ember says in a whisper. Her eyes are blurred with tears.
“Just do what they say for now. Let me deal.” I kiss her cheek.
“You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t. I know you have reservations about everything, and I know you were just trying to post a video.
But I do have to talk to them privately, and I’ll make it better.
Hang out with my sisters.” I roll my eyes. “They’re better company anyway.”
The little kitchenette is attached to the living area but secluded, so we can’t see or hear my sisters until we walk through the door. Sweet little Zoya, petite with dark hair and warm brown eyes, and my sister Yana, taller and slenderer than Zoya, stand up against a counter.
“Hey,” Yana says warmly, extending her long, slender fingers out to grasp Ember’s hand. “I’m Yana. This is Zoya. And you are…”
“This is Ember. Take care of her, girls. I have to go talk to Rafail.”
Zoya grimaces. “Good luck. I’m sorry, he’s in a mood, Rodi.” She wrings her hands, always nervous around my thundercloud of a brother.
Yana, however, is less easily intimidated. “Come on, Ember. Let’s get you something to eat. They’ll work things out.”
“I love your account,” Zoya says with a grin. “I can’t believe it’s you here. I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity. Your book recs are life.”
“Zoya!” I’m shocked by her admission. I still think of little Zoya as a child, the youngest sister. And I’ve read those damn books…
“What, Rodi?” She waves her hand dismissively at me. “Relax, will you? Did you forget I’m an adult now?”
“Barely,” I mutter. My brothers will be getting impatient. “I need to get out there. Take care of her.”
I go back to my brothers. They’re waiting in the sitting area.
The vodka’s out, of course.
At least I know Ember’s safe in the kitchen.
I walk straight to the vodka, thankful my brothers brought the good stuff. “Anyone want a drink?” I’m deflecting but don’t fucking care. I walk over and pour myself a few fingers.
“I don’t want a drink, Rodion,” Semyon says with a sigh. “I want answers. We all do.”
But to my surprise, Rafail stands and walks over to me. He’s as tall as I am, but it took me a while to catch up. I know when I’ve pushed too far, and god knows I’ve done it before. He’s always been like a father to me, but maybe now, in some way, he’s more a father than a brother.
When he reaches for me, I stifle a flinch, prepared for anything after what happened out there, but instead, he pulls me into a hug.
Something in my chest loosens.
I tamp it back down again.
“Good to see you, brother, even if I want to wring your damn neck.”
Well, that’s about as tender as Raf gets.
“Good to see you too.”
We step back from each other, and I sip the vodka before I take a seat next to him. “Alright. I’m going to tell you everything. Just relax, okay?”
Rafail leans against a small wooden desk and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. Talk.”
This is not going to go over well.
I take another sip. God, I missed this shit. It tastes like home.
I blow out a breath. “I was doing the job you told me to do. And then… I saw the video Matvei sent of the mafia thirst traps, and I thought… I thought maybe I’d have a little fun.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Semyon asks in a growl, shaking his head.
Time to tackle this head-on and brace for the fallout. Ember can’t shoulder the responsibility alone.